


A Touch of Witchcraft

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons heavy with hint of TripDaisy, hocus pocus au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: A FitzSimmons (and Bus Kids!) Hocus Pocus AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I never knew I wanted to write a Hocus Pocus AU for FitzSimmons until I rewatched the movie this October. I hope you enjoy!

He awoke with a start, his heart pounding and chest heaving. 

Antoine Triplett took a moment to inhale deeply and press his fingers into the straw mattress beneath him, letting the scratchy feeling of the homespun linen and the scent of johnny cakes frying cement him in reality. It had been a dream. A terrible dream, but a dream nonetheless and now the day was dawning bright and --

She was gone. 

He looked next to him, expecting to see the figure of his younger sister only to find the straw cold where she should have been. She hated getting out of bed; there was no reason she would be up before him and no way she could have gotten out of bed without waking him up. 

Fear surging in him anew, Trip leapt out of bed and threw himself at the window, his eyes immediately drawn to the wicked looking plume of smoke on the horizon. It could only mean one thing: The Sisters were up to their tricks again. His stomach went icy with dread as he realized that his dream may not have been as harmless as he’d hoped. Fingers tight on the windowsill, Trip scanned the horizon looking for any sign of Rosie, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be exactly where he expected.

Hope wasn’t good enough. 

He spotted her, a familiar figure in her white nightgown and nightcap, just at the edge of the woods. 

“ROSIE!” he bellowed, his voice carrying enough to startled a flock of starlings perched in a nearby tree. “ROSIE, COME BACK!”

She never wavered, steadily walking toward the forest as though drawn by something. Or someone. 

Knowing he needed to act, Trip forced himself away from the window and shoved his legs into his breeches, flying down the stairs as he fastened them. The scent of johnny cakes had gone sour now, the food blackened in the skillet his grandmother had left on the hearth. The woman herself was leaning on the door frame, sagging as though all of her own energy had been spent. 

“Granny, what-”

“Antoine,” she moaned, clinging to his arm, “Antoine, they have her. They have her and they won’t let her go.” His grandmother’s withered fingers pressed sharply into his forearm, filling him with a sense of urgency. “We can’t lose her, not after-”

“Hush, Granny,” he said as soothingly as possible. “Go back inside. I’ll get Rosie back, I swear it.”

With that, he took off through the fields for the woods, his grandmother’s desperate prayers ringing in his ears. 

He knew the way to the Sanderson cottage and his feet flew over paths they knew by heart. Trip had been raised here, knew the land as well as he knew his own mind, and used that to his advantage now. If he was lucky, he’d be able to head his sister off and divert her before they got too close to those vile women and fell victim to whatever plan they had in the works. 

Trip slowed as he approached the cottage, not wanting to alert the witches that he was there, and carefully crept up to peek through one warped window pane. He could see Rosie sitting in a chair calm as anything, her curls fighting to free themselves from her nightcap as she watched the witches. They were standing at a cauldron in which a thick liquid bubbled ominously. He couldn’t let that near Rosie, and the certainty of that knowledge forced him into action. 

He grabbed the water wheel on the side of the house and let it carry him to the roof. Moving slowly, he slipped inside the loft window and crept to look over the edge. He watched as the three women took turns throwing various vile ingredients into the pot, waiting for the right moment to leap into action. 

He kept watching as they stirred their brew and saw how it turned bright green just before they dipped a long-handled spoon into it. The last of his indecision melted away as they approached Rosie and he leaped down to land next to the cauldron. 

“Get away from her!” he roared causing the three hags to turn and look at him, and Trip had to fight off a wave of revulsion as he took them in. He thought they might have been beautiful once, slender with bright eyes and smooth skin, but any such grace was gone from them now. Their eyes were dull and their skin marred, their collective countenance terrible to look upon. 

He took a deep breath and shuffled around the cauldron, doing his best to settle his nerves and taking care to make sure it was between him and the women all the while. When it became clear that they wouldn’t be quick enough to catch him, Trip took a chance on shoving the cauldron toward them, using the distraction to in closer to Rosie. When they pushed it back, he gave a great shout and used its momentum to send two of the witches tumbling into a nearby work table. 

Knowing it was his best chance to get to Rosie, Trip turned and called for her, taking two giant steps before sharp, burning pain lanced through his body, causing him to convulse and fall to the floor and leaving him to watch, helpless, as they turned their attention to Rosie. 

“Raina, look,” the tallest said, her mouth split in a macabre grin that chilled Trip to the bone. He glanced over at Rosie and saw that she was surrounded by a faint white light, and a phantom breeze tugged at her thin night clothes and whipped her tight ringlets into a frenzy. Despite the flurry of activity around her, his sister remained still and calm, unnaturally so. Trip realized she teetered on the edge of being lost forever and forced himself into action, reaching for a nearby ladder with which he could pull himself up. 

“Ophelia, Lorelei, prepare thyselves!” proclaimed the shortest of the women. Despite her stature, she was clearly the one in charge of the three, and Trip watched her with narrowed eyes, hate blazing in his heart. “‘Tis her life force! The potion worked. Come, take my hands. We will share her.”

He struggled to his feet as they surrounded Rosie - tiny Rosie who he’d taught to climb trees and sang to, who always had a ready smile for any and all - and began to breathe deeply. A fresh wave of horror broke over him when he realized they were inhaling the light that surrounded her and that with each breath Rosie grew sallower and the sisters more vibrant. 

They stopped just as he managed to get to his feet, and Trip knew all was lost. Rosie was collapsed in the chair, her limbs withered and her beautiful black curls steel gray with premature age. Rage filled him and he growled lowly as the sisters approached him. 

“We shall suck the life out of all the children of Salem,” Raina declared with a wicked smile, her eyes squarely on Trip’s own. “Perhaps we should brew a new batch and start with you.”

His sister dead and little left to live for, Trip forgot his tongue. 

“You _hag_,” he spat at her, “there are not enough children in the world to make thee young and beautiful.”

There was a terribly still moment as the three women stopped to stare at him. Trip could see the hate glinting in their eyes and steeled himself for whatever terrible fate he had just brought upon his head. He sent up a silent plea for forgiveness to his poor grandmother, and a prayer to the Almighty that he might make it through this ordeal unscathed. 

“Hag,” Raina drawled. “Sisters, did you hear what he called you? Whatever shall we do with him?”

“Perhaps we should tie him to a spit and barbecue him,” suggested the redhead, her gaze uncomfortably falling on the meatiest parts of his body.

“Oh, let’s hang him on a hook and let me play with him!” interjected the third sister, her tall, slender body swaying closer with the promise of having a new plaything at her disposal. 

Raina’s only response was to shush them both before calling her grimoire over to where they stood. The grisly tome floated just past his nose but Trip refused to be intimidated. He looked all three of the women square in the eye and dared them to do their worst. He didn’t want to die, but he wouldn’t shame his family further by dying like a coward. 

They flipped through the pages until they found what they wanted and began to chant in unison.

“Twist the bones and bend the back…”

“_Itchita copita Melaka mystica…_”

“...trim him of his baby fat…”

“_Itchita copita Melaka mystica…_”

“...give him fur black as black, just-”

“-like-”

“-this.”

Pain unlike anything he’d ever known lanced through every part of Trip’s body and he cried out as his bones crunched against each other, his anatomy rearranging until he was looking up at the three women from the floor of their cottage. He tried to scream his outrage at them, but the only sound that passed his throat was the angry hiss of a cat. 


	2. Chapter 1

“The legends say that to this day, a black cat guards the Sanderson cottage, waiting to prevent the evil Sisters from coming back to attack the children of Salem!”

Jemma watched as the majority of the class leaned in to listen to their AP Chemistry teacher, eyes wide and enthralled with the local tale. She just rolled her eyes when they all jumped and shrieked in response to their teacher throwing a homemade smoke bomb on the floor, pulling the collar of her jumper over her nose to keep from breathing in anything that might be harmful. 

She hated it here. Why their parents had moved them from Boston to Salem she’d never understand. Jemma had been poised for a stellar senior year there, certain she’d be going to Harvard or even back home - her real home - to Cambridge. Instead she was here, in this tiny, sleepy town where people actually believed this nonsense about a witchy trio of sisters and were impressed by a simple chemistry trick. She’d much rather be learning something useful. 

The teacher saw her lack of reaction and gave her a knowing look. “It seems not everyone is sold on the idea. What do you think, Jemma?”

She paused and weighed her words, trying to ensure that the phone call home her parents received wouldn’t be overly embarrassing for the family. 

“I think people should realize that Halloween is a primarily commercial holiday celebrated in the United States to ensure that candy companies and dentists continue to make a profit.”

There were titters and oohs from her classmates while her teacher merely smiled. Before the older woman could answer her though, a Scottish burr interrupted. 

“Shows what y’ know,” called Leo Fitz. “Halloween is still celebrated as Samhain in parts o’ the world. Would still be celebrated if the English hadn’t tried to wipe it out.”

Jemma turned in her chair and smiled sweetly at him. She had no idea what she’d done to Leo Fitz other than be born English but here they were. She wasn’t going to take that lying down, regardless of how beautifully blue his eyes were. 

“More like the Catholic Church corrupted it for their own purposes, but to each their own.”

Before he could respond and their bickering grow more heated, the bell dismissing them for the day rang. Her classmates exploded up out of their seats, bags and papers rustling as they all but ran for the door and the start of Halloween. With it being on a Friday this year, the students seemed particularly intent on getting into as much mayhem as possible; Jemma just wanted to avoid it. She waited until the room was nearly empty and exited, doing her best not to notice that Fitz was right beside her or that he matched her pace down the hallway. 

“Y’ know, if you’d like t’ learn more about the legend, I could always take y’ out t’ the Sanderson place.”

Her steps faltered and she couldn’t help the look of surprise that crossed her face. 

“Why in the world would I want to do that?” She looked up at him, reminding herself to control her breathing when their eyes met. “It’s just a silly legend.”

Fitz shrugged off her comment. She thought he looked a little disappointed, but it didn’t show beyond the set of his shoulders. “That it may be, but it’s still an interestin’ part o’ town lore if nothin’ else. But that’s all right. Y’ can just let me know if y’ change your mind.”

He gave her a little smile and peeled off, heading out the doors of the school without giving her another look. Jemma was still staring after him when a punch to her shoulder rocked her forward. 

“Ow! Bloody hell-”

“Hey, sis.”

Jemma turned to find her younger sister, Daisy, beaming at her as though she hadn’t just socked her in the shoulder. If she had to place a bet, she’d say she’d have a healthy bruise in an hour or two thanks to her handy work. 

“Daisy,” she growled, “what the hell was that?”

“Oh, nothing.” She curled her fingers around the straps of her backpack and grinned back at her. “It just looked like you were actually enjoying yourself here for once. I wanted to remind you of how miserable you were set on being.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. Daisy might have had a point - she had made a point of remaining steadfastly miserable since they’d moved - but she wasn’t going to give her younger sister any ground. 

“Oh, hush.” She grabbed Daisy by the shoulder and turned her toward their exit. “We’re going home. Now.”

Daisy tried to dig her heels in and stop their progress, but Jemma’s pushing was too insistent. Her thick-soled combat boots skidded across the linoleum and she giggled as she tried to push back against her sister’s force. 

“You don’t want to go home. You just want to see if you can catch Fiiiiitz,” she teased, drawing his name into two syllables. “Do you think we’ll catch him at the bike racks? What are you going to say if we do?”

Jemma rolled her eyes where Daisy couldn’t see and tried to will herself to stop blushing. She was not thinking about him, no matter what her sister said. 

By the time they hit the sidewalk, Daisy had moved on, opting to talk about her own day instead of torture Jemma over her burgeoning crush. That was just fine by her. She let herself imagine Fitz’ impossibly blue eyes and his quick-witted responses while Daisy prattled on about her day. Jemma thought she mentioned something about the Sanderson Sisters, some sullen boy on the lacrosse team she thought was dreamy, and a vague mention of an essay she had to write this weekend. She did her best to keep up the conversation, but in truth Daisy was perfectly content to prattle on until they reached their home. 

Jemma unlocked the back door to let them in, only to be greeted by a note on the kitchen table. She picked it up and squinted, reading it closely. 

“Mum and Dad are gone for the evening,” she murmured, almost to herself. She was vaguely aware of Daisy digging through the refrigerator in search of something to eat but didn’t pull her focus from their mother’s neat handwriting. “They’re at City Hall if we need them… All this note says is to enjoy ourselves and to call them if we need anything.”

Jemma let her arm drop to her side and scoffed. 

“That’s bloody rich.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Daisy asked around a mouthful of apple and peanut butter. “That’s friggin’  _ awesome _ .”

“What?” Jemma wheeled on her. “No, it’s not! They left us with ruddy candy duty all alone-”

“Oh, fuck candy duty!” Daisy came around the kitchen counter and grabbed Jemma by the upper arms. “Seriously, Jemma. Our parents left us  _ alone _ . On Halloween. Think about it.”

Jemma saw the glint in her sister’s eye and did think about it. She saw visions of a giant house party, complete with kegs in the corner, and felt like she was going to be sick. Daisy was going to get them both killed, if not by her bad girl shenanigans then by their parents when they finally came home. 

“Daisy, Daisy, no-”

“We’re going out!” She let Jemma go to do a giddy little spin right where she was. “We’re not going to hand out candy, we’re going to collect it! Oh, we’re going to get such a good haul, you’ll see.”

Jemma blinked her eyes and looked at the younger girl, unsure of how to react. 

“Did you say-?”

“Yes! We’re going trick-or-treating! Get dressed, Jemma. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Daisy, wait-!”

But it was too late. Her younger sister was already bounding up the stairs with her characteristic exuberance, leaving Jemma little choice other than trail after her up the stairs in bewilderment. She stepped onto the landing between their two rooms and immediately had to dodge a pink feather boa as Daisy chucked it into the hall. She carefully tiptoed into the room, watching as her sister burrowed into the bottom of her closet. 

“Daisy,” she protested to her backside, “we can’t go out. There are things to do here.”

She paused just long enough to throw Jemma an unimpressed look over her shoulder and went right back to her quest for a Halloween costume. “Yeah? Like what?”

Even muffled by the several metric tons of clothing in her closet, Jemma could hear the eye roll she was certain she’d been on the receiving end of and scoffed. Daisy was her younger sister; wasn’t she meant to listen to her?

“Pass out candy to all the trick-or-treaters for one,” she said. She could tell her voice was going all high and tight, what Daisy called her tell, and tried to surreptitiously clear her throat to get rid of it. “It really isn’t fair to all of the kids-”

“Really, Jemma? Yes! Here it is!” 

Daisy popped up, a black robe and pointy hat in hand to go along with her bright smile. “I knew I still had my witch costume! Now, let’s do you!” She grabbed Jemma by the shoulders, turned her back toward her room, and planted her hands in her back to push her over. 

“Daisy, stop! I mean it!” Jemma protested, just barely skidding to a stop before hitting the edge of her mattress. Despite being so slight, her sister was much stronger than she appeared. “Mum and Dad bought all that chocolate. Someone needs to be here to give it to the kids who show up. It’s only right.”

Feeling Daisy take her hands off her back, Jemma scrambled to get her feet under her so she wouldn’t fall over and turned to face her sister. The knowing smile that greeted her only stoked her agitation further. 

“Jemma. We put out a bowl with a ‘please take one’ sign. Some bold youth upends the entire thing into their bag and that’s that.” Daisy shrugged at her and went into her room to start digging through the closet. “If you’re really going to feel so guilty about it, we’ll put out an old Halloween bucket of ours. That way if someone just takes off with it, we don’t have to care!”

The longer Daisy spoke, the more Jemma resigned herself to not getting out of this. He knew that tone of voice. There was no convincing Daisy to do anything other than go trick-or-treating. The sooner she accepted that, the sooner they could go out and be back. She might even get to spend the rest of the evening with a good book and a nice cuppa if she played her cards right. She sighed and rolled out her neck. 

“Fine, Daisy. We’ll go trick-or-treating.” She winced away from Daisy’s outrageously loud cheer, flapping a hand at her. “On one condition. I’m not wearing a bloody costume.” She looked like she was about to argue. “Take it or leave it, Daisy. Those are my conditions.”

The sisters stared at each other for a long moment, both trying to decide if they could wait out the other. Eventually, Daisy threw up her hands and stalked out of the room. 

“Fine! Have it your way,” she groused as she went to get ready. “But I don’t want to hear you complain if we run into Fitz and he’s disappointed you’re not dressed as something cute and slutty.”

Daisy’s words gave her pause, but ultimately she stuck to her guns. She put in moderately more effort than she might have otherwise though, finding her favorite pair of jeans, her cutest jumper, and a comfortable pair of boots. If they did run into Fitz, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely disappointed to see her. 

~*~

Three hours later, Jemma was feeling decidedly less hopeful. They were wandering through the rich part of town, ringing on doorbells and dragging pillow cases full of candy along with them. She had wanted to stop ages ago, but Daisy had insisted that they keep going. “Just one more!” had become her mantra and Jemma was finally discovering why her sister kept bringing home Ds in maths: she had no earthly concept of counting. 

“Daisy,” she moaned, shifting her pillow case from one shoulder to the other as they dodged dozens of sugared up children, “don’t you think we’ve done enough? Pretty soon we’ll have more than we can even carry home. I think it’s time to go back now.”

The other girl shot her a narrowed-eyed look and Jemma could have sworn she heard a growl in there for good measure. 

“One more house,” Daisy insisted. “This is where they have the good candy, Jemma. What happens if we miss it?”

Jemma gave the neatly paved brick walkway Daisy was leading them along a skeptical look. She doubted there was anything resembling candy that either of them would enjoy here, but now didn’t seem like a prudent time to argue with her. 

“They’ll probably just make us drink cider or bob for apples.” 

Jemma scuffed the toe of her boot against the brick while Daisy rang the bell. They could hear the muffled sound of music and voices behind the door, but the wait dragged on and on. She was just about to suggest they leave and try somewhere else when the door whooshed open, bathing her boots in a warm yellow light. She looked up to meet the surprised blue eyes of none other than Leo Fitz. 

Jemma let her eyes rake over him, taking in the ruffled shirt, blue waistcoat, and tight cream breeches he was wearing. She never would have thought it, but 17th Century Fitz was a sight to behold. She found herself momentarily speechless and desperately wishing Daisy would look anywhere but between the two of them. 

“Oh, ah, Jemma, hi.” He smiled at her, making her heart flutter. “

“Hi, Fitz.” She managed to blink and looked around the porch they were standing on. “How are you?”

“Oh, y’ know, not too bad for bein’ stuck inside on Halloween.”

“That’s good. Do you always-?” she asked, gesturing to his costume.

“Oh, this?” He chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, they force me int’ this every year-”

Before he could fully launch into his explanation, Daisy loudly cleared her throat and looked between the two of them. Jemma knew what that knowing look meant and could only hope that Fitz wouldn’t pick up on it. 

“Trick-or-treat,” she said, locking eyes with Fitz. “Got any candy?”

To his credit, he didn’t hesitate to step back and let them into the mansion. Jemma’s eyes went wide as she took in the sweeping stairs, the dozens of candles lighting the foyer, and the adults in period costumes with masks walking back and forth. Fitz shut the door behind them and gestured to the biggest bowl of candy Jemma had ever seen. 

“Go on and help yourself,” he told Daisy as he grabbed a Twix for himself. “There’s plenty t’ go around.”

Jemma watched as her sister gleefully dived into the bowl, unabashedly picking out her favorites and dropping them into her bag. She couldn’t help but notice they were full sized bars, too, and wordlessly set her bag on the table next to Daisy. She knew her sister would need the extra room. 

“I didn’t know you lived over here,” she said, turning to Fitz. 

“Well, technically I don’t.” She watched as a blush crept up his neck toward his jaw. “This is just where my mum works now. She used t’ be the curator over at the Sanderson cottage, but the Historical Society moved her here when they shut the cottage down. Hence this getup,” he nodded down at himself, “and everythin’ else.”

“Did you say Sanderson cottage?” Daisy asked, her tone clearly curious despite the fact she didn’t pause her raiding the candy bowl. “My English teacher talked about them today. Said they were going to come back to get all of us one of these Halloweens or something like that.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Fitz agreed, his eyes sliding over to Jemma. The smirk he gave her made her belly do strange flips despite herself, and she did her best to give him a stern look in return. The way his smile widened only told her she needed to improve her ability to glare. It was getting her nowhere these days. “The Sanderson cottage is still standin’ at the edge o’ town. They decided t’ close it due t’ all o’ the unexplained events occurrin’,” he shot another look at Jemma, “but it’s still there, waitin’ for the sisters t’ return.”

“Oh, please,” Jemma scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “More like it’s waiting to collapse or be torn down. Those poor women were likely falsely accused and don’t deserve to have their names dragged through the mud 300 years after their deaths.”

“We could always go see.”

Her head whipped toward Daisy, eyes wide. 

“Why on earth do you want to go see an old, dilapidated cottage? I thought you wanted to get all the candy in Salem.”

The other girl held up both pillow cases to show they were positively laden with spoils. Any more being shoved into them risked the chance that the seams would split and spill their contents.

“I think I have enough. And besides, it’s interesting. Whether you think it’s a witches’ cottage or not, it’s an important piece of local history. Wouldn’t you agree, Jemma?”

She fought every last urge she had to curl her fingers into fists at her sides and growl at her sister. She hated when an argument she’d be willing to make was used against her. Before she could say anything to counter her, Fitz chimed in once more. 

“I could always take y’ over there. My mum still has keys t’ the place. She doesn’t know I know where she put them, but yeah. We could be in and out. It’ll be easy.” 

Blue eyes met hazel in what Jemma could only characterize as a hopeful look. That caught her attention. And the fact was that she did wish she had more friends here other than Daisy. Her sister was nice and all, but Fitz… Fitz could keep up with her mentally, and the fact that he was well formed and had a symmetrical face didn’t hurt things either. 

“See, Jemma? He has keys. It isn’t even breaking and entering. Not really.”

“If y’ just give me a minute t’ get out o’ this kit, we can all head over. I’ll drive. What do y’ say?”

His last question was directed squarely at Jemma and was paired with a pleading look that would easily rival Daisy’s. She debated with herself for a moment, weighing the stupidity of going to an abandoned, decrepit cottage late at night versus spending more time with the boy she fancied. In the end, it was a relatively easy decision. 

“Fine,” Jemma relented. “Go change and we’ll meet you out front. Maybe then you’ll both see how silly this whole Sanderson business is after all.”


	3. Chapter 2

Jemma kept stealing glances at Fitz and tried not to pout. She understood why he hadn’t wanted to drive around town dressed like a 17th Century manservant, but she felt the loss all the same. Back in his usual black zip up hoodie, jeans, and trainers, he looked much more himself and while that was nice, she felt like she had less of a reason to look at him. She forced her eyes back onto the road, her grip on the door handle tightening as Fitz rounded a corner and took them onto a smaller road that ran into the woods. 

“Y’ can relax a little. I’ve never crashed or even had a ticket.”

Jemma blushed and forced her fingers to unclench, giving Fitz an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s just that -”

“She’s a control freak.” Daisy grinned as she leaned forward from the back seat to join their conversation. She had part of a KitKat bar in hand and gleefully took a bite as she looked between the two of them. “Jemma doesn’t like to give up control. I’m actually kind of impressed she didn’t insist on taking your keys herself.”

“Daisy!” she grit out, her cheeks heating further. Jemma was grateful for the dark since it made it harder to see her obvious reaction to her sister’s teasing. “I would never be so rude.”

Any further conversation was put on hold as Fitz pulled the car into a tiny car park that clearly hadn’t been used in a few years. The asphalt was coming up in places thanks to the roots of larger trees, the yellow lines marking spots were nearly gone entirely, and the low river stone wall that stood between it and a dilapidated cottage was crumbling. Its rundown state combined with the full moon and it being Halloween made for a chillingly creepy setting, and Jemma found herself wrapping her arms around herself where she sat.

Fitz cut the ignition on his old dusty red Jeep and they all climbed out to wander closer to the building, coming to a stop just at the wall. With the headlights off, everything felt just a touch spookier and Jemma naturally gravitated closer to him, telling herself it was simply because he knew the lay of the land best. Not because she thought him well-formed or liked being next to him. 

“They say this is nigh indestructible,” Fitz murmured as he placed his hand on the garden wall before them, forcing both girls to lean in to hear, “because it holds the bones o’ 100 children o’ Salem. The Sanderson sisters built their walls with them and spelled it all t’ stand for a thousand years.”

“Really?”

“Oh, please.” Jemma rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I highly doubt those women could have caused 100 children to go missing and nothing was ever done about it.”

Fitz turned away from Daisy and smiled at Jemma. 

“Well, they  _ were  _ hanged for witchcraft.”

“So were a few hundred other women!” she shot back. “All they did was want to own their own property and have some control over their lives. Hardly a hanging offense.”

They approached the padlocked gate as they spoke, and Fitz looked away as he fished the keys out of his pocket. “I suppose it isn’t,” he relented, “but keep in mind, the villagers  _ did  _ find them with the body o’ young Rosalie Triplett. She’d been a perfectly healthy nine-year-old girl the night before and her brother Antoine was never seen again.” He turned back to the gate to open the padlock and started to carefully unwrap the chain from the wrought iron as he added, “Y’ and have t’ admit that witchcraft or not, bein’ found with the body o’ a child is fairly good evidence o’ wrong doin’.”

Jemma watched as Fitz carefully draped the chain over the low stone wall and pushed open the gate. He bowed slightly and gestured for them to go through first. 

“That poor family,” Daisy said as she passed through and took a few steps down the path to the cottage. “They must have been heartbroken.”

“They were. The Tripletts were the first free Black family in Salem. Good people that fought hard t’ make sure they had a chance here. The Sandersons stole that from them.”

Jemma felt her heart sink to the soles of her shoes as she followed the two of them up to the cottage’s entrance. She knew all the Tripletts were long dead, but she couldn’t help but ache for them. To lose a child was terrible, but two at once? She shuddered as they approached the dark doorway and waited for Fitz to unlock it. Jemma wasn’t much of one for trusting gut feeling or putting any kind of stock into things she couldn’t see, but the feeling of dread here was undeniable. Fitz was right, although she’d never admit it aloud. Something terrible had happened here, even if it wasn’t witchcraft. 

“Ladies, welcome t’ the Sanderson Cottage.”

The three teens stepped over the threshold only to be greeted by darkness and the vague outlines of what Jemma could only assume was the furniture taking up the space. 

“There’s a light switch over here somewhere…”

She shut her eyes for a moment to let them adjust to the darkness and listened as Fitz and Daisy fumbled along the wall for the switch. Comfortable that she could see well enough with the little bit of light filtering in through the doorway, Jemma took a few confident steps over to what she realized now was a checkout counter for the tiny gift shop near the door and reached for one of the Zippos that were sitting there. She hadn’t seen one of these in years and she felt a tiny pulse of nostalgia as she blew the dust off it and lit it. 

“Need some help?”

Fitz and Daisy turned to look at her, each giving her a brilliant smile, but her gaze couldn’t help but linger on Fitz. He looked so utterly pleased by her discovery that Jemma felt compelled to keep him looking just like that. She carefully walked over to them and held up the lighter so they could find the light switch. Fitz quickly flicked it on and there was a slight humming and flickering before the very dusty bulbs came to life. 

“Woah. Look at this place.” Daisy turned on the spot, eyes wide and grin bright. “All of this stuff can’t be original.”

Fitz gravitated toward Jemma, coming to stand next to her as they both watched Daisy flit about the room deciding what to look at first. 

“It is,” Fitz assured her. “Other than the candy and the lighters and the post cards, all o’ this stuff is original, preserved for 300 years.”

He lingered near the door while Jemma stepped away, her eye drawn to a large red book at the center of the room. It was the only object hidden away behind glass and she was immediately drawn to it, her curiosity quickly rising to the fore. She came to a stop in front of it, her hands landing on the glass case as she peered inside. It was covered in what looked like red leather with sutures running across its cover in odd places. Coiled snakes adorned the corners, and where a lock should have been, sat what was unmistakably a closed eye. 

A shiver ran through her looking at it, but she couldn’t look away, either. 

She felt him step up behind her first, the heat of another body obvious, and took a breath as Fitz began to read over her shoulder. 

“This is the spell book o’ Raina Sanderson,” he said, his warm breath brushing past her ear and sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “It was given t’ her by the Devil himself. The book is bound in human skin...” 

She shivered outright at that point, disturbed by the very idea that anyone would use human skin to bind a book.

“... and contains the recipes for her most powerful and evil spells.”

Jemma turned her head ever so slightly and, smirking, murmured, “I get the picture.”

He was so close to her, the heat radiating off him making her heart beat wildly. She loved her sister, she truly did, but for the first time ever Jemma wished she was an only child. If Daisy hadn’t been there…

“Hey, what’s that?”

Her sister’s voice pulled their attention away from the spell book and Jemma had to bite her lip to keep from pouting at the loss of Fitz’ warmth. 

“Oh, that’s the Black Flame Candle,” he said, apparently oblivious to the moment they’d been having. Jemma trailed after him as he walked over to Daisy and look at that placard with her. Though, she was pleased to notice he didn’t lean over her sister’s shoulder the way he had hers. 

“Made from the fat o’ a hanged man,” he read, “legend says that on a full moon it will raise the spirits o’ the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween night.”

Daisy’s eyes flew to Jemma’s, the glee in them plain. 

“Know anyone who can help us out with that, Jemma?”

She pulled a face and flipped her the bird. Not her proudest moment, but Daisy’s teasing was pushing it. As much as she wasn’t ashamed of being a virgin, she didn’t necessarily want that outed by her sister in front of the boy she fancied. 

“Virginity’s a social construct,” she shot back, “and I’m not stupid enough to light anything in here. This place would go up in an instant and there’s no guarantee that the sprinkler system still works.” She eyed the pipes overhead, taking in their dust-covered state. “For all we know the city cut the water lines when they closed the place down.”

Fitz watched the exchange with mild curiosity, but thankfully didn’t seem to have anything to say. He might have been brash in school, but at least he knew well enough to let two sisters sort things out on their own. 

“Sounds like you’re just chicken.”

“Daisy…”

Her warning wasn’t enough to keep her sister from making soft clucking sounds at her and Jemma felt her cheeks flush anew. What she wouldn’t give to throttle her sister. 

“You  _ do  _ have a lighter. And it’s just a candle, right? I mean, it probably isn’t even made of actual hanged man. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jemma looked between Daisy and Fitz, who looked for all the world like he didn’t want to be stuck between two arguing sisters. She watched as he pulled a hand through his curls and edged toward the door. 

“Look, lightin’ the candle might be a step too far,” he hedged. “Let’s just leave well enough alone and get out o’ here. It’s late enough as it is. Let’s just go back t’ my place and watch a movie or somethin’. I’m sure my mum brough home all the leftover candy, and-”

“For someone who doesn’t believe in witchcraft, why are you so worried about it? It’s just a candle, isn’t it?”

Something about the way Daisy was looking at Jemma got under her skin, made her want to shut her sister up for good. She was so sick of her needling, of being told she was too good and stuck too closely to the rules. Of being the good girl sidekick to Daisy’s fun wild child. She narrowed her eyes and stalked over to her sister, ignoring the chill she felt as she approached the Black Flame Candle. She kept her eyes on her sister as she struck the lighter and held it near the wax. 

“Jemma, I really don’t think y’ need t’-”

“No, Fitz, Daisy’s right. It’s just a candle, right? So, no problem then. It’s just a touch of witchcraft, after all.”

She held the flame to the ancient wick and to her surprise, it lit nearly immediately, casting a warm yellow glow over the two sisters. “See? Nothing to worry about-” But then the flame sputtered and changed, going from its cheery yellow to an eerie green tinged black at the edge. Jemma’s stomach sank in dread. 

“We need t’ go,” Fitz insisted, voice low and urgent. “Blow the bloody thing out and let’s get movin’.  _ Now _ .”

Daisy and Jemma both leaned in to do just that when all hell broke loose. The electric lights popped and burst around them while all the candles and hearth burst into flame, causing them each to jump and shriek. But it was the shaking of the cottage’s door and the cackle of laughter, accompanied by the angry yowling of a cat, that was heard behind it that really made Jemma’s hair stand on end. Every instinct was telling her to run and hide, so when Fitz shouted for them to do just that, she didn’t hesitate to duck down behind a bookcase that was tucked toward the back of the room. 

She watched as the door to the cottage burst open and three figures stalked into the room and tried to shrink back into the shadows as she observed what could only be the Sanderson Sisters. 

“Sisters, we’re home!” the shortest of the three declared, giving a little twirl as she took in the cottage. 

“It’s like we never left,” the second added, her brunette locks flying out behind her as she flitted from the cauldron to the prep table to the window. She passed within a few inches of Fitz, and Jemma watch as he pressed himself further beneath the rickety table where he’d taken shelter. “Oh, everything’s just perfect!”

  
  


“Raina, Ophelia, look!” The redhead pointed toward the still-lit candle and Jemma couldn’t help but flinch away. “The Black Flame Candle! It must have been lit by a virgin, or else we wouldn’t have returned.”

Jemma bit her lip to keep from groaning. Was that all anyone could think to talk about? As if whether she’d ever had sex was any concern! The voices of the three Sandersons pulled her attention back to where they were all standing around the candle. Jemma glanced toward the door and saw it was still open. It was too far for her to make it, but Daisy might be able to make a run for it, given the right opportunity. She tried to tell her sister to go but had no such luck. Daisy stayed put, as did Fitz. 

“Oh, my plan worked absolutely perfectly! Those idiot villagers thought they were rid of us, but here we are: alive and as magnificent as ever!”

The brunette - Ophelia - leaned toward a dusty mirror and peered at herself, her fingers pressing into the skin just beneath and around her eyes. 

“Perhaps not quite as magnificent, but certainly alive.”

The Sisters hovered around each other for a long moment, chattering away and switching between staring in the mirror and looking at each other, each trying to see which was more aged than the other. If she wasn’t completely terrified, Jemma would have rolled her eyes at their vapid behavior. Suddenly, the one they called Raina straightened up. 

“Sisters, wait!” The talking stopped as they all looked at her. “If the candle is still lit, that must mean whoever did it is still here. And, if they are young enough…” Her smile turned sly as she stalked over to her grimoire. “Boooooook,” she purred, “wakey wakey. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Jemma watched as she caressed the glass and murmured to the object inside. She couldn’t see what Raina was seeing, but the way she spoke to the book - as though it were alive and could respond - turned her stomach. Every fiber of her being wanted to run but she couldn’t get her legs to do what she wanted. 

“Sisters,” Raina called, “spread out and look. If that candle is still lit, whoever brought us back may still be nearby.” She gave them a wicked smile that they seemed to communicate volumes, although what it said, Jemma couldn’t say. 

She held her breath as they spread out and searched the cottage, although thankfully the most they did was look around. Neither she nor Fitz were easily spotted in their street clothes, but the very tip of Daisy’s witch’s hat was poking up above counter she’d hidden behind. Jemma spotted it at the same time as Raina and had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting out. All she could do was watch in horror as the three women approached her sister’s hiding place. 

“Well, what do we have here?”

“Oh!” Daisy popped up from behind the counter with a smile, her hands behind her back. “Sisters! I am so glad you were able to make it back, and just in time for All Hallows Eve!”

Raina’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and all three of the women leaned in toward Daisy, clearly trying to intimidate her while she spoke. 

“ _ You _ meant to bring us back?” asked Ophelia, her lips stretching into a wide smile. “How delightful. Really, Raina, we should thank our young sister, shouldn’t we?”

Raina didn’t take her eyes off Daisy or even open her mouth to speak, content to let her sisters do the heavy lifting. 

“I agree,” chimed in Lorelei. “We must insist that you stay for supper and help us with our next spell.”

Nothing about their tone or posture spoke of welcome, a fact Daisy had seemed to pick up on. 

“While, I appreciate the offer, I think I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh no,” Raina said, reaching across the counter to wrap her fingers around Daisy’s upper arm, “we insist.”

That was when all hell broke loose. Daisy threw something - possibly a spare lighter - at Raina, hitting her square in the forehead. The witch let her go with an angry shout and Fitz came flying out of his own hiding place, ready to defend Daisy. Taking that as her cue, Jemma made the same madcap dash, snatching a broom off the wall and swinging it directly at Ophelia’s head. She managed to duck but lost her balance and tumbled into the glass case holding the spell book, breaking it with a loud crash while Jemma caught Lorelei in the gut on the next pass. Those two out of the way, she turned her attention to Raina. 

The witch had Daisy pinned to a chair with some unseen force while she kept Fitz at bay with one sparking hand. His blue eyes were wide and frightened as he looked between the hand and Daisy, clearly trying to decide whether he should risk trying to get to her. Before Jemma could move to help him, she heard the same cat’s yowl that had so chilled her earlier and watched as a jet-black cat dropped down onto Raina’s shoulders, its claws and teeth sinking into whatever flesh it could. 

The surprise of it must have distracted Raina, because whatever static electricity trick she’d been using on Fitz disappeared as she reached to struggle with the cat, and suddenly Daisy was able to move as well. The three teens met in the center of the cottage, looking for the nearest escape, while Raina shouted at the cat. 

“Antoine Triplett! Still skulking about, I see.” 

She managed to get a hand between herself and the cat, breaking its grip on her, and flung it toward them. It landed on its feet and immediately turned to hiss at Raina. 

“Raina Sanderson! Still hunting children for sport, I see.”

Jemma blinked and grabbed Fitz’ arm, her fingers digging in. Had that cat just  _ spoke _ ?

By this time, the Sisters had all regrouped and were standing behind Raina. Their eyes were trained on each of them though, and Jemma had the uncomfortable feeling that this was what a well-fattened calf felt like just before slaughter day. The three of them began inching backward toward the door of the cottage, the cat between them and the witches. Just as they came to the entryway, Jemma caught sight of some cobwebs caught on a sprinkler and felt an idea spark. 

“Fitz, Daisy, get ready to run for the car.”

“What? Jemma-”

“Are y’ daft? No way are we leavin’-”

“Run for the car,” she whispered again, “and get it running. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jemma moved to the front and called out, “Your magic is nothing compared to mine!” That got exactly the reaction she’d hoped. All three women - and even the cat - froze and looked at her. 

“You?” Lorelei asked, incredulity dripping from her words. “ _ You _ have magic?”

“I do,” Jemma answered, proud of herself for not stuttering. “I have the power to control fire.” She lit the Zippo and held it aloft for the women to see. “And with it, I can call the Burning Rains of Death whenever I chose.”

Ophelia and Lorelei’s eyes went wide and they took an obvious step back, but Raina’s gaze narrowed.

“Prove it, girl, or know that when I’m done with you-”

She never got the chance to finish her sentence. Jemma held the flame to the sensor on the sprinkler and suddenly they were all doused with water. The Sanderson Sisters screamed and ran for the other side of the room where they could take cover beneath the loft. Pride and excitement running through her, it took everything Jemma had not to shout in triumph before turning and running out the door. 

The moment of hesitation was all she needed to hear that same voice from earlier. 

“Wait! Grab the book!” She glanced from the cat to where the book sat in the middle of the room getting soaked thanks to the sprinklers. “Grab it, girl! Otherwise they’ll be on you in a flash!”

A glance across the room showed her that the women were starting to become curious about the supposed rain she had called and were venturing to stick their hands out to test it. Knowing she didn’t have time to disprove the existence of a talking cat, Jemma made a dash for the glass case, and pulled the grimoire out of the wreckage. She spared one last look at the three Sandersons, then turned to run out the door, the black cat right on her heels. 


	4. Chapter 3

Jemma ran as fast as she could into the night, the spell book clutched to her chest. She did her best to ignore the fluttering she felt against her ribs, hoping against hope that the damn book didn't somehow have x-ray vision or the ability to signal the Sandersons. Even as she thought it, Jemma knew it was ludicrous, but everything she'd seen that night left her with no other choice. Witches were real and so was magic.

She arrived at the Jeep just as Fitz was turning over the ignition and threw herself into the passenger seat. Jemma slammed the door behind her, looked into the backseat to make sure Daisy was with them, then shouted, “Drive!”

The command hadn’t been necessary. Fitz already had the car in reverse and slammed his foot onto the gas, sending them careening out of the lot. He didn’t slow down once the tires hit asphalt and there was a tense moment of silence before Daisy broke it. 

“What the actual fuck was that?”

Fitz and Jemma looked at each other, the moment spinning out for a tense moment. Before she could be relieved that he apparently hadn’t actually believed in witchcraft either, a fourth, unknown voice came from the darkness of the backseat. 

“You have a mouth on you, don’t you?” 

Jemma jerked around in her seat to look at her sister. Next to Daisy, tail twitching, sat the same cat she’d heard tell her to get the spell book that sat in her lap. Her eyes darted between Daisy and the creature as her brain desperately tried to catch up. 

“What, you’ve never seen a talking cat before?”

Fitz, who had somehow managed to keep his eyes on the road and not what was going on in his backseat, chose that moment to chime in. “No, can’t say that I have.” Jemma glanced at him and saw in the passing streetlights just how pale he’d gone in response to the night’s events. “But we have some more pressin’ concerns at the moment.”

“You mean like waking 300-year-old witches from the dead?”

Daisy snorted at that while Jemma rolled her eyes. Naturally, the one talking animal they would ever meet had a sarcastic streak. She sat back in the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her chest, and mumbled, “How were we meant to know that damn candle would work? Magic isn’t _real_.”

“Oh, it’s very real,” their four-legged companion opined, “which is why we need to go to the cemetery.”

“The cemetery?” Daisy asked. “On Halloween? No, thanks. I’ve seen this horror movie before. I think I’ll pass.”

“Horror movie? What’s a-”

“He’s right.” Fitz turned the car away from the center of town and over toward the local cemetery. “Consecrated ground, right?” Jemma noticed he was looking at the cat in the mirror. His color was slowly returning to normal and he was giving the creature a half-smile. “Antoine Triplett, I presume?”

“The one and only.” The cat placed its forelegs onto the center console and pushed its way between Fitz and Jemma. “And if you know enough to head for consecrated ground, why did you let anyone get near that candle with a live flame?”

Fitz actually glanced away before answering, “Because no one livin’ in this day and age believes in witches anymore. They’re stories we tell children for fun.”

“Some fun,” huffed Triplett as Fitz pulled over to park across the street from the cemetery. “All right, everybody out of the car and through the gates. The witches won’t be able to touch us here.”

Against better judgement, Jemma did exactly as the cat said, slipping out of the Jeep with the book once more clutched to her chest, and following Fitz, Daisy, and Triplett through the weathered iron gates of the oldest cemetery in the village. They followed Triplett down the shadowy paths, going deeper and deeper until the electric lights of modern Salem had nearly disappeared in the foliage. The headstones in this part were worn down thanks to the elements, making it difficult to make out anything carved on them. If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were being pursued and in fear of their lives, Jemma would have found the history of the place terribly fascinating. 

“Michael Peterson?” Daisy read one of the few visible names aloud and looked over at Trip, crouching to get more on his level. “Why did you bring us here?”

“He was an old ally of Raina’s,” the cat admitted. “She’d promised to make his life here easy. When he realized that what she wanted was a mindless, obedient manservant, he attempted to buck her control.” With the tone he was using, Jemma had a feeling that his attempt had been of the lethal variety. She didn’t think he could be blamed for that. “When she realized what was happening, she killed him. Do you have the book?”

Trip turned his unnervingly green cat’s eyes on Jemma, sending a chill along her shoulders as she stepped forward. “It’s right here,” she said, holding it out. “Although I don’t know why we grabbed it, it’s not like these words actually mean or will do anything-”

“Jemma,” Fitz scoffed, “y’ lit a candle and we watched three women who have been dead for 300 years come back.” He gave her a pointed look. “Maybe we don’t doubt the existence of a spell book is my only point.”

She opened her mouth to argue when a sudden whooshing drew her attention upward. Instead of the large bird she’d expected, Jemma was greeted by the sight of Raina, Ophelia, and Lorelei hovering above them on brooms. She nearly pinched herself, but Raina’s shout of triumph at having found them was too chilling to be anything but real. 

“I’ll be taking my book back now,” she called down. “Oh, Boooooook!”

Jemma gasped in shock as she felt the tome move in her arms, loosening her hold on it and letting it fall to the ground. To her horror, she watched as it started to rise toward Raina. Thankfully, Trip was much faster than she was. He jumped on top of it, keeping it planted to the earth. 

“Come down here and get it, witch!” he yowled. The authoritative tone in his voice gave Jemma the distinct impression that he had been rather capable of being imposing in life and she suddenly wished she’d been able to meet the actual Antoine Triplett instead of this version of him in cat form. “Or are you too scared to set foot here?”

Ophelia and Lorelei snarled, but all Raina did was sit back and smirk at them. That look chilled Jemma to the bone, and she found herself edging toward Fitz and Daisy, wanting the comfort of the two other teens. 

“Think you’re clever, don’t you? So, you’re on hallowed ground. I have the means to get you, cat, where you least expect it.” She sat up straighter on her broom and held her hands out to the side in a rather dramatic manner. “Unfaithful friend long since dead, deep asleep in they wormy bed, wiggle thy toes, open thine eyes, twist they fingers toward the sky. Life is sweet. Be not too shy. On they feet, so sayeth I!”

At first nothing happened, and Jemma turned her triumphant gaze up toward the three women. She had just the right come back about magic not being any actual good when the dirt next to Daisy burst into the air. All three of them shrieked when they realized that they were looking at was clearly an ancient, decaying hand. Its fingers flexed, seeking purchase.

“Run!” Fitz bellowed, pushing at Daisy and Jemma’s arms. “Bloody hell, move!”

Daisy paused just long enough to grab the book from beneath Trip then took off after him, leaving Jemma to bring up the rear. Thankfully they took a path covered by the branches of trees that must have been planted when the town was first founded. While it made for slow going, it at least kept them out of sight of the Sandersons as they made their way back to the car. 

Trip paused as they came to the gate and the three children drew up to a stop just behind him. “I think the coast is clear-”

A sudden crashing to their left drew shouts from them again as they jumped and turned toward the noise. Jemma covered her mouth with both hands to keep herself from screaming as she realized that she was looking at what could only be described as a zombie. It had sickly gray-green skin and a bald head, but its eyes were wildly alert as it lurched toward them. Fueled by pure adrenaline, Jemma didn’t need to be told to run. She took off for the Jeep, barely stopping to look as she crossed the street, and yanked the door open as soon as she heard the lock disengage. 

She was just about to climb in when she heard Daisy’s shout of dismay. The taillights of a car were fading down the road, but her sister crouched over the crumpled form of Trip, her expression horrified. 

“Trip, Trip, wake up-”

“Daisy, there’s no bloody time!” Fitz told her, tugging at her shoulder. His eyes were trained on the zombie, who seemed to be struggling to figure out asphalt. “Pick him up and let’s see what we can do in the car.”

He waited just long enough for Daisy to scoop up the tiny body, then practically shoved her across the street toward the Jeep. Jemma twisted in her seat to watch Daisy, trusting that Fitz would get the car started soon enough. As it roared to life, she could see the first signs of tears forming beneath her sister’s eyes. 

“Poor Trip,” she murmured. “He was just trying to help us.”

Uncertain how to proceed, Jemma reached a cautious hand back and rested it on her sister’s shoulder. “I know, Daisy, and I’m sure - Oh, bloody hell!”

Right before her eyes, the cat had reanimated in her sister’s lap. Where he’d once been crushed and lifeless, he now lay sprawled across her legs, tail lazily twitching as he looked between the girls. 

“How?” Daisy demanded. “How in the hell-”

“I’m cursed to be immortal, remember?” He shifted to sit instead and began cleaning himself. Jemma would have sworn he was smiling if cats were capable of it. “I’ve been alive 300 hundred years. Do you really think that’s the first time I’ve been hit by a car?”

“Oh of course,” Fitz muttered from the driver’s seat as Jemma finally turned around and settled in. Daisy was too busy hugging Trip, ignoring his protests, to answer. “Bloody immortal cat scares the hell out o’ us and acts like we’re the ones goin’ barmy.”

They lapsed into silence as they drove back into down, the trees and wide lawns eventually giving way to the quaint city center. The mood in the car stayed tense, though, with Fitz drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and muttering quietly for each group of trick-or-treaters that crossed his path. Jemma wanted nothing more than to help ease his concern but had no idea what to do. She was just gearing up to say something when Daisy broke the silence. 

“Oh my God, the kids.”

“What?” Jemma turned to face her younger sister, he expression clearly puzzled. “What are you on about?”

“The kids,” Daisy insisted, her eyes locked onto a group of middle schoolers dressed as superheroes. “That’s what the legend is, isn’t it?” She looked at Trip sitting in her lap. “You were cursed because they wanted your sister. They wanted to live forever.” Her eyes darted to the book lying on the seat next to them. “They’re coming here next. We have their book, and a town full of kids. If they still want to live forever, the Sanderson Sisters are coming to Salem.”

“Oh, fuckin’ hell-”

“What are we going to do about that? We can’t-”

“- no one will ever believe us-”

“-exactly tell the truth here-”

“Hey!” Daisy shouted, getting both of them to stop. “Mom and Dad.”  
  
  


“What about them?” Jemma asked, puzzled.

“Mom and Dad will know what to do. They always know what to do, like that time I hacked the computers and they convinced the headmaster to keep me there and put me in AP Computer Science. If anyone knows what to do, it’ll be them.”

Jemma looked over to see Fitz watching Daisy in the rearview mirror. 

“Y’ hacked your school’s computers?”

“Yeah, well, not the computers. The grading system.” There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other in the mirror. “Mom said she’d ground me if I came home with another D! I just wanted to make them Cs so I could go out that weekend!”

Jemma bit her lip to keep from laughing. She could still remember the fallout from that particular family discussion, and the way the administration at their school in Boston had avoided them like the plague after that. Fitz found it less amusing if the way he was shaking his head was anything to go by. 

“Bloody crazy women,” he muttered before asking more loudly, “So where am I goin’?”

“City hall,” Jemma answered. “Our parents are at city hall.”

~*~

Fitz quickly - and safely, Jemma was pleased to note - navigated them through the city and to city hall. The Halloween Gala (she still couldn’t believe Salem threw a Halloween Gala of all things!) made parking near the building difficult, but they were able to find a spot within easy walking distance. 

After a brief, yet heated, discussion, they decided it would be best to leave the book in the car; The Sandersons wouldn’t know what a car was, and they had seen that the grimoire could be kept away from them with binding. They wrapped it in an emergency blanket Fitz kept in the back of his car and shoved it under the front seat, wedging it in to be sure it wouldn’t move. 

They climbed out of the Jeep and hustled toward the main entrance, the three of them walking as closely together as possible and glancing around while Trip trotted along beside them. They were all looking for the Sanderson Sisters, and it was only once they made it into the building that Jemma felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She knew it was silly - magic was real and those women would be able to get to her no matter what - but it just felt better having thick, sturdy marble walls surrounding them.

They followed the loud pulsing of music until the found the ball room, and all three of them stood frozen in the doorway. The room was packed to the gills with the town’s adults, all of them dressed in costume and dancing like mad. It wasn’t unlike the handful of high school dances Jemma had attended, and she found herself horrified by the scene. These were the responsible people they had come to find?

“I think we might be better on our own,” Fitz declared, his disdain for the scene before them evident. “None of them can help us now. Look at them. They’re all drunk.”

While she privately agreed, a quick look shared with Daisy confirmed that they were going to tell their parents no matter what. As much as they were perfectly capable of keeping things from their parents when necessary, this was definitely an event that required their attention. Mum and Dad knew how to solve pretty much anything. 

“We’re going in,” Daisy said, giving Fitz a little shove. “If I know Dad, he’s making Mom dance and she’s hating every minute of it.”

With that to go on, they plunged directly into the heart of the dance floor, their eyes peeled for their parents. They were jostled by moving bodies as they tried to peer into different faces, looking for a familiar smile or anything else that might show them where their parents were. Jemma was just about to groan in frustration and give up when she felt fingers close around her wrist. She started and turned only to find herself face to face with Fitz. 

“This is hopeless,” he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. Jemma had to focus to keep herself from shivering in response to the hot wash of his breath on her ear. “We’re never goin’ t’ find your parents here, we might as well-”

Fitz cut off as he was jerked away from her, turned thanks to a hand on his shoulder. Jemma was about to protest, her face folding into a scowl as she opened her mouth to scold whoever had pulled at her friend, when she stopped. She knew the set of that jaw and the amused smirk. 

It was her father. 

“Hi,” he said to Fitz who was looking rather frightened with his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “I’m Phil. Want to tell me why you’re so close to my daughter?”

Fitz’ jaw worked up and down for a few moments, clearly at a loss for what to say. Jemma thankfully had no such problem. She rolled her eyes and gently pushed at her father’s shoulder. 

“Dad, that’s enough. Leave Fitz alone. What are you supposed to be anyway?” 

Her father complied, although he was still eyeing Fitz suspiciously. He adjusted the cuffs on his suit and rolled his shoulders as his eyes cut between the two of them. 

“Secret agent. Duh.”

Jemma looked at him dubiously but opted not to say anything. She knew better than to argue with her father when he had his mind made up. 

“S-sorry, sir,” Fitz finally managed to get out. “I didn’t mean t’ be too familiar.”

Her father gave Fitz a look but elected not to say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to his daughter. 

“Didn’t we tell you and Daisy to stick together tonight? Where is she? Why aren’t you at the house?”

“We went out. Look, Dad, we need to find Mum-”

“Found her!”

Daisy waved to their father as she joined them, their mother in tow. Jemma saw that she hadn’t dressed to match their father; instead, she was wearing dark breeches and a light color tunic tied off with a teal sash and carried a staff of some kind. Of course, their mum had decided to go warrior chic. 

“Hi, Mum,” Jemma said, leaning in to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You look festive.”

Her mother nodded in acknowledgement, then turned her attention to her spouse. “Phil, Daisy said that they were in some kind of trouble.”

“Melinda, I just found Jemma and-”

“Uh, Fitz, sir.”

“-Fitz here. I haven’t heard anything. Yet. Start talking.”

Jemma shared a look with Daisy, and then they both opened their mouths, each of them speaking over the other as they tried to tell their parents about what had happened that evening. Their parents quickly tried to quiet them so they could understand, meaning that the only thing that happened was they wound up as one big mess talking over each other. Jemma briefly wondered how it must look to poor Fitz, but her concern didn’t last long. 

“Mike!” she hissed at Fitz, pointing over his shoulder. She could feel how wide her eyes were as she watched the zombie lumber toward them.

“I thought his name was Fitz?”

“Which is it, son, Fitz or Mike?”

“Oh hell, run!”

Jemma and Daisy took off without giving their parents so much as a second thought. Unfortunately, for Jemma that meant nearly running right into Lorelei’s arms. The shock of nearly colliding gave the witch just enough of a start that she was able to slip away and find Daisy near the door. 

“Where’s Fitz?”

“I don’t know, I thought he was with you!”

“No. Oh God.” Jemma felt panic tighten her belly. What if Mike caught him? Worse, what if one of the Sandersons did? What would they do to him? She was just about to dive back into the crowd to find him when movement on stage caught her eye. She relaxed as she realized that it was Fitz wrestling the microphone away from the band’s front man and babbling into the microphone. 

“Salem, I have an announcement!” There was a long, drawn out pause as every eye in the room turned toward the lanky teen on stage. With the music off, everyone’s attention was squarely on him. “The Sandersons came back tonight.”

His announcement was met with hoots and hollers as the adults in the room realized what he’d said. All Jemma could do was stand there and watch as poor Fitz’ cheeks grew redder and redder as they heckled him. 

“Good one, kid!”

“Get off the stage, bring back the music!”

“Tell us another!”

“No, no!” Fitz insisted, eyes wild. “Y’ don’t understand! They’re real, and they’re-”

“Thank you, Fitz!” 

All eyes in the room darted to where the voice had come from. It was Raina, flanked by her sisters, and they were stalking toward where Fitz stood, dumbstruck, on stage. Jemma’s heart flew into her throat. She started toward him, not certain of what she was planning on doing once she got there, only to be stopped by Daisy. 

“Jemma, stay here. It’s no good if you get caught by them, too.”

So, she watched, rapt and more than a little fearful, as Raina took the microphone from Fitz.

“Thank you, Fitz, for that marvelous introduction!” She turned to put the mic back on its stand and leaned in. “In celebration of our return,” there was a light spattering of laughter from the adults in the audience, “my sisters and I would like to sing a song for you. Lorelei?”

“_I put a spell on you…_”

The redhead stepped up to the mic and began to sing, her body swaying slightly in time to music no one seemed to be able to hear but her. Fitz, wisely, took the opportunity to slink off the opposite side of the stage and pushed his way through the rapt audience toward Jemma, Daisy, and Trip, who was back to milling around their feet. 

“_... and now you’re mine…_”

“We need to go,” Trip yowled at them. “Lorelei will have them all turn on us in an instant as soon as that song is over.”

“But our parents-”

“Are of no interest to the witches. They’ll want children. Right now, you’re the only children here.”

His words brokered no room for argument, so they quickly made their way out of City Hall and back to Fitz’ Jeep. Jemma’s brow was furrowed while they walked, her mind turning over something that was bothering her. 

“How did they find us?” she asked, pausing with her hand on the handle. “I mean, how did they track us to City Hall? Or was it just luck on their part?” She climbed in and buckled up, her eyes flitting between Fitz, Daisy, and Trip in the hope one of them would have something approximating an answer. “The likelihood of that seems improbable. So, how?”

Just then, they heard a rattling coming from under her seat and the same thought dawned on all of them. 

“The bloody book,” Fitz growled as he pulled out of the spot. “We need t’ get rid o’ it, or we’ll be runnin’ from those witches for the rest o’ our lives.”

There was a thought. Although, if it meant running with Fitz, Jemma didn’t think it sounded entirely terrible. There were certainly a few perks she could get used to if nothing else. 

“You can’t just run forever,” Trip protested. “You need to destroy _them_, otherwise there’s no end to this cycle.” Killing anyone was a dark thought, even people as vile as the Sanderson Sisters, but Jemma saw the logic in it. 

“But how?” she asked. “How do we stop three witches who came back from the dead?”

There was a pause before Daisy leaned forward to stick her head between their seats. 

“Head toward the high school,” she told Fitz. “I think I have an idea.”

~*~

Jemma sat in front of the monitors in the school’s security office, trying to calm her nerves. At least she was with Fitz; Daisy was hiding in the kiln room, ready to slam the door on the sisters while Trip was waiting near the front of the building, ready to bait them and lead them through the correct doors. The spell book sat beside them, still bound and weighed down. Hopefully they were right, and it would be what drew the sisters to the school in the first place. 

They waited for what felt like forever when something caught Jemma’s eye on the monitor. “There!” she whispered to Fitz, her hand finding his bicep and squeezing to get his attention. “There they are!”

They watched as the sisters spotted Trip and rushed after him right through the doors of the school. 

“Idiots,” Fitz muttered as he picked up the PA, “bloody idiots. Thank God for that.” He cleared his throat and spoke into the system, doing his best to put on a game announcer voice. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Jemma might have actually found it funny. 

“Welcome t’ _Are Y’ Smarter Than a Salem Witch_! Let’s meet our contestants this evening: Ophelia, Lorelei, and Raina Sanderson!”

Fitz continued in that vein, teasing each of the three women while luring them toward the art hallway. It was working perfectly to plan so far, but that only heightened Jemma’s nerves; it also meant they were getting closer to Daisy and she worried what might happen to her if the sisters didn’t go into the kiln. Still, Fitz played his part beautifully and before long, all three of the sisters had rushed into the space in the clear expectation of finding the three of them and their book. 

Knowing her cue, Daisy quickly slammed and locked the door before pressing her hand on the giant red button to fire up the kiln. As she watched the gray hued flames lick up the inside window on the security monitor, Jemma felt vaguely guilty for killing the women, but the sight of Trip running along the corridors with Daisy quickly banished that. They certainly hadn’t given his sister a fair chance to make anything of herself. Feeling guilty over their deaths was a waste of time. 

They met at the main entrance of the school, book in tow, and all of them exchanged quick hugs. Jemma tried not to focus on the fact that Fitz lingered with her, or that having him pressed so close to her left her feeling breathless and tingly. If they were alone, she might have risked trying to kiss him, but the mere presence of her sister and Trip kept her in check. Still, she kept stealing glances and did her best to convince herself that the bright blue of his eyes and his wide smile weren’t that irresistible. 

The four of them rushed back to Fitz’ car, all of them elated and babbling with excitement over what happened. The giddy rush of adrenaline was undeniable, and Jemma just knew that they wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon. 

Almost as if he read her mind, Fitz broke in to ask, “So, where to?” They were just passing City Hall and from the pulsing music and the lightshow visible from the windows, it was clear that party was still in full swing. 

“Head to our house,” Daisy said from the backseat. “Mom and Dad are going to be out all night tonight. We’ll have it all to ourselves.”

“Y’ sure?” 

The question was meant for Daisy, but Jemma felt the weight of his blue eyes on her, waiting to see what her reaction was. She just set her teeth into her lower lip, smiled, and nodded her agreement.

“All right then. Just tell me which way I’m goin’.”

~*~

Once they’d returned home, they all trailed up the stairs to the tower that sat above their rooms. It was a tiny thing, not large enough for them all to sit in, so they spread out on the spiral stair to laugh and relive the events of that night. As time wore on, Jemma found herself drifting closer to Fitz, smiling at his jokes and leaning into him when she could. She knew she wasn’t being particularly subtle, but she didn’t much care. She was still floating on the thrill from beating the Sanderson Sisters; a little of Daisy’s teasing in the morning wouldn’t mean much in the long run. 

Eventually, Daisy let out a jaw-cracking jaw and let out a little embarrassed laugh. “I think that means it’s time for bed. Good night, you two. Don’t stay up too late.”

She picked her way past them, followed by Trip, and went into her room. She shut the door behind her, leaving Fitz and Jemma alone for the first time that evening. They watched each other for a few long moments, and she was struck by how handsome he looked bathed in the light of the full moon. The silvery light glinted off his curls and made his eyes appealingly dark. They were the kind of eyes Jemma wanted to lose herself in them again and again. 

“So… Is it safe t’ say y’ believe in the legend of the Sanderson Sisters now?”

The way his lips curled upward as he asked made it impossible to be upset with him or the gentle ribbing in his question. She laughed softly and tipped toward him, leaning sideways to press her shoulder to his, just to be closer to him. This time, she didn’t retreat when he cautiously rested his arm on her knee. 

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say that.” Overcome by the urge to touch him, just a little, Jemma brought her hand up to curl around his elbow, her thumb brushing over the soft material of his hoodie. “You’ve turned me into a believer.”

He looked up at her then and the force of his gaze kept Jemma pinned in place, desperate to see what he would do next. He moved slightly, invading her space just a tad more. Unlike other boys who had done this, she didn’t feel the immediate urge to push him back. If anything, she moved to meet him halfway. 

The kiss was soft and hesitant, both of them waiting to ensure they hadn’t mixed their signals. Once it became clear that they both wanted it, the intensity grew. Jemma couldn’t be sure who initiated what, but sooner rather than later she found herself swiping her tongue along his full bottom lip seeking entrance. However, when his lips parted, it was to pull away and speak. 

“Look, Jemma, I really like y’, like, I’ve wanted t’ ask y’-”

“Shh.” She covered his mouth with her hand to stop what looked to be a rather impressive rant. “I like you, too. So, what’s the problem?” She dropped her hand so he could speak.

“I just, ah, wanted t’ take y’ on a proper date first is all.” She arched a brow at him, inviting Fitz to explain further. “Before, y’ know. Other things.”

“Leopold Fitz,” she chided, “did you really think ‘other things’ were about to happen?” 

The sheepish look on his face told her all she needed to know. While Jemma wasn’t opposed to it, that wasn’t on her agenda for the evening.

“Maybe I should go-”

She tightened her hold on his arm to keep him in place next to her. 

“You should come lie down with me. _Just _lie down,” she said, her eyes bright. “Well, maybe snog a little more. Then, after that, once we’ve had some sleep and can plan with a clear head, we can talk about that proper date. Because I think I’d very much like that.”

“Yeah?”

The boyish enthusiasm he managed to cram into that one word was irresistible. Jemma leaned in to brush another kiss across his mouth, then stood up to take his hand and lead him off the stairs and into her room. They quietly shut the door behind them, leaving the grimoire forgotten on the stairs. 


	5. Chapter 4

Jemma woke up in the wee hours, cold and shivering. Eyes still shut, she reached a hand out to brush against the mattress in search of the heat that had kept her comfortable. Finding nothing more than cool sheets, she sighed and opened her eyes. They confirmed what she already knew: Fitz had slipped out of bed before her. 

Ignoring the insecurity tugging at her belly, Jemma climbed out of bed herself and took a moment to straighten out her camisole and pajama bottoms before turning toward the door. The knot that had formed just above her belly eased when she spotted his hoodie unzipped and draped over the footboard just where he’d left it before they fell asleep. Feeling much better, she picked it up and pulled it over her shoulders. Jemma paused before opening her door to zip it up and snuggled down in it, taking a deep breath and savoring the scent of him that lingered on the fabric before pressing on. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have far to go to find Fitz. He was sitting at the top of the stairs in his boxers and t-shirt, looking out over the sleeping village of Salem. Creeping along quietly so as not to wake Daisy and Trip, she climbed the stairs to join him. Unlike earlier when they’d tried to keep their distance, now she gladly invaded his personal space, pressing herself against him from shoulder to hip and leaning in for good measure. 

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.”

Jemma bit her lower lip and did her best not to shiver when his gravelly tone hit her ears. It wasn’t like Fitz was the first boy she’d let snog her senseless. He was just her favorite thus far, and if all their conversations were just as stimulating, she thought he’d be her favorite for quite a while. Thinking that was a capital idea, she leaned in and claimed another chaste kiss before asking the question that was on her mind. 

“It’s still early. Why’d you get up?” She’d been comfortable lying next to him in bed and had to remind herself not to pout. “Was I hogging the covers?”

“What? No,” he said with a laugh. “I was just too excited t’ sleep. Too much adrenaline.” 

Jemma arched a brow at him and waited for him to explain further. 

“Not like that.” She watched the blush creep up his cheeks and thought it was adorable. “It’s just been a busy night. Good, but busy.”

Her eyes fell on the grimoire at the bottom of the stairs. The moonlight just caught the edges of the binding and glinted off the dull metal. The sight sent a shiver through Jemma that she quickly pushed away. It was just a book. They’d returned the Sanderson Sisters to their graves where they belonged. Surely the thing was harmless now. Wanting to focus on the boy next to her, Jemma pushed thoughts of it away and looked back to him. 

“You could have woken me up,” she suggested. “We could have not-slept together.”

There was that charming grin again, this time accompanied by him wrapping his arm around her waist. She savored the heat rolling off him and let her head fall to his shoulder. 

“I didn’t want t’ assume. Besides, I haven’t been up very long. Just wanted t’ come take a peek at this view.” He looked back over the rooftops and Jemma turned her head in the same direction. She’d been so upset about moving here, but this little turret and its viewing windows had been one of the highlights for her. She supposed she couldn’t really blame him for wanting to indulge himself. “Always wanted one o’ these, but there aren’t many in our part o’ town.”

She hummed in acknowledgement and let the silence spin out for a few moments. It was nice, just sitting like this, and he had already met her parents. She doubted either her mum or dad would be okay with co-ed sleepovers in the future, but maybe a dinner could work. And after they could sit here and just admire the stars and talk. It was a nice vision and she immediately put it on her “to do” list.

After a while, she gave him a little nudge with her elbow and nodded down the stairs. “Back to bed, or tea?” She knew what she was hoping for but didn’t want to push him. 

“Honestly?” Fitz sighed and gave her a slightly apologetic look. “Tea, I think. So maybe we can talk about that proper date.”

Far more pleased with his selection than she’d anticipated, Jemma offered him a megawatt smile and stood up. “All right. You should go find some pants in case Trip and Daisy wake up, then meet me in the kitchen.”

She did her best not to linger or watch him as he slipped back into her room but failed miserably. The image of his bum in boxers fresh in her mind, Jemma managed to force herself off the landing and toward the kitchen, only stopping long enough to pick up the spell book that lay on the ground. They’d need to get rid of it sooner rather than later. Even if the Sanderson sisters were dead and gone, the thought of anything covered in human skin in her home made her own skin crawl. 

She had just put the kettle on and had taken down two mugs for tea when Fitz joined her in the kitchen. Jemma noticed that he was avoiding the book as well, sitting at the opposite end of the counter from it and eyeing it nervously before turning his full attention on her. 

“What kind o’ tea do y’ have?”

Jemma brought down the tea caddy, opened it, and turned it around so Fitz could see. “Thankfully my mum is a tea snob. She makes sure we have the good stuff. Feel free to pick whatever you like.”

She watched as he wiggled his (long, graceful and talented) fingers over the box before picking out a packet of Earl Grey. Decision made, she put the tea box back in place before cutting them two slices of pound cake that were sitting on the counter and slipping into the seat next to Fitz. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, leaning into her just a bit as they got settled. “I was feelin’ a little peckish.”

“I somehow thought you might be.” She smiled up at him before letting her eyes fall to where the grimoire sat on the counter. Jemma reached for it and pulled it over to rest next to her plate. She felt Fitz stiffen beside her and fought the urge to remind him that it was just a book. “We need to decide what to do with this. We can’t just keep it.”

“Burn it.” The steel in his words surprised Jemma and it must have shown on her face when she looked at him. “Nothin’ but bad has come from that book. We should burn it.”

Despite the fact that she had come to trust Fitz beyond a shadow of a doubt, something made Jemma hesitate. 

“What if we could ensure good came of it?” When he didn’t say anything right away, she took that as her cue to press on. “What if we could help someone? Say, someone like Trip.”

“How?”

“How? Really, Fitz?” She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she turned to him. “He’s been a cat for 300 years. Don’t you think he’d like to be human again? To live out his days normally?”

He broke off a bit of pound cake with his fingers and popped it in his mouth, clearly stalling for time. Even in the dim light of the kitchen Jemma could tell that Fitz was uneasy with her suggestion. 

“I don’t know. He seems rather against havin’ anythin’ t’ do with that book. Maybe we should leave it up t’ him when he wakes up.”

This time Jemma did roll her eyes. 

“Fitz, you know he won’t ask for anything for himself! And what about-” she paused, not wanting to bring her sister into it, at least not yet, “-him getting to live a full life? There’s no way he’d ever be happy just being our house cat until he dies. After all he’s been through, don’t you think Trip deserves more than that?”

She could feel him thawing to the idea and had to fight the sudden urge to wrap her arm around him and beg. She wasn’t at that point, or at least she wasn’t just yet. 

“I suppose y’ have a point. But what about-”

“They’re dead, Fitz. We sent them back to their graves.” That nagging sense of guilt tugged at her belly and she quickly pushed it aside by reminding herself that the Sanderson Sisters had been put to death for their crimes ages ago. They had just put them back where they belonged. “That book is just a tool. The Sandersons used it for evil. Maybe we can make some good come of it.” Jemma took his silence for acceptance and reached for the book, pulling it into her lap and opening it so they both could see. “All right then. Where to begin?”

~*~

Across town, the heavy metal doors of the school banged open, the rapport of them hitting off the brick facade barely registering with Raina, Ophelia, or Lorelei. They had a missing to carry out. 

“Sisters! We must find my book,” Raina began. “Trip and those meddling children-”

“Raina, look!”

She turned to see what Lorelei was pointing at, her mouth stretching into a wicked grin once she spotted it. A bright orange beam pulsed in the sky, warming the icy cockles of her heart. Her book. It was calling to her. Someone had opened it and it was trying to get home. 

Without saying a word, the three sisters stalked in the direction of the beam, knowing exactly what it was they needed to do if they wanted to survive the coming sunrise.

~*~

“There’s all kinds of folklore in here. Apparently, we need salt to protect us from a witch’s wrath,” Jemma murmured, her lips pulled into a slight smirk as she traced her finger across the page and Fitz watched over her shoulder. She was just getting used to the warmth of him against her back and the urge to turn and kiss him senseless every time he shifted was getting easier to ignore so long as she kept her focus on the task at hand. “But look, this bit seems promising. It’s talking about setting things back to their original state…”

“Do we have t’ worry about that turnin’ Trip int’ a pile o’ bones?” That made her turn around to give him a sharp look. She might have only known him for a few hours, but the idea of Trip disappearing felt very, very wrong to her. “All I’m sayin’ is that he was turned into a cat 300 years ago, Jemma. Puttin’ him back t’ what he should be would mean d- er, not-alive. I don’t want that t’ be the case, but we can’t ignore it, either.”

His words were kind, which made the fact that he was surely right all the more difficult to take. Jemma pursed her lips and went back to the book. “We’ll just make a note of this page then, and see what else there is-”

The sound of breaking glass and a shout from the bedrooms caused them both to jump off their kitchen stools and stare at each other with wide, panicked eyes. Before either of them could speak, there was another scream, followed by the angry yowling of a cat. 

“Daisy!”

They shouted in unison and turned to run up the stairs. Fitz’ slightly longer legs got him to the top just a moment before Jemma, leaving her to follow him as he shoved his way into Daisy’s room. The door banged off the wall behind it, but her eyes were glued to the curtains fluttering against the dull gray of early dawn. The window behind it was broken, leaving glinting glass over the carpet. 

There was no sign of Daisy or Trip. 

“Fitz, what happened?”

He opened his mouth as if he were ready to argue, but no sound came out. Fitz looked more perplexed than she’d ever seen him, a fact that made her own mouth go dry with fear. Even when he had no idea what was happening, Fitz was willing to argue his point. That was just what he did. What they did. 

The fact that they weren’t now sent a chill down her spine, left her stomach feeling like it had dropped out entirely. 

“I don’t know, Jemma, I just don’t-”

Another crashing sound from downstairs sent them flying out of Daisy’s room and back to the kitchen. Jemma beat Fitz this time, her feet slipping against the hardwood as she skidded to a stop. Her eyes landed on Ophelia, who had her arms wrapped around the spell book.

“Hey, give that back!” Jemma lunged toward the witch, knowing she needed that book to keep Daisy safe, only to find herself pulled backward by Fitz. “Let me go!”

“Foolish girl! There’s nothing you can do,” the witch sneered. “We have everything we need and before the sun rises, we’ll be immortal!”

Her cocky look sparked pure rage in Jemma, causing her to lunge forward and break Fitz’ hold on her. But by the time she was free, Ophelia was gone, leaving her to do little more than scream out her frustration. She got to the window just in time to see Ophelia take off on a broom of all things and slapped her hand against the wooden sill in frustration. 

“Why did you grab me?” She whirled on Fitz, causing him to back up a few steps. “We could have stopped her!”

“Because I didn’t want y’ in harm’s way!” Jemma froze in response, clearly shocked by Fitz’ outburst. “I just wanted y’ safe. That’s why.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, panting with the force of their shared emotion. Jemma could feel tears prickling at the corner of her eyes and broke his gaze first, scrubbing the back of her hand over her eyes as she tried to get control of herself and shove everything she was feeling back into its proper box. 

“They have her, Fitz. Daisy.” Jemma sucked in a breath to settled herself and met his eyes. “And Trip. We have to try to help them.”

He approached her cautiously and slowly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. It felt better than it had any right to and she felt herself relaxing nearly immediately. 

“We will, Jemma. We’re goin’ t’ go get them right now.”

He was so earnest he made her want to weep. Sweet, sincere Fitz. 

“How? We have nothing to go off of, no clues-”

“Yes, we do.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Jemma, we know they’re goin’ t’ their cottage. That’s the only place they would go with Daisy, Trip, and the book.”

“So, we know where they went, but we have no plan.” Suddenly the thought of trying to stop them and save her sister was overwhelming; all Jemma wanted to do was break down and cry. “This is hopeless.”

“Shh, no it’s not. It’s never hopeless, Jemma.” She clung to him, squeezing her eyes tight as she tried to get her emotions under control. The feeling of his hands stroking over her back gave her something to focus on and she’d never been more grateful in her life. “We’ll go get them back. We’ve tricked the Sandersons once. We can do it again.”

Jemma pulled back to look at him, her expression clearly confused. 

“How?”

“Jemma, didn’t y’ hear what Ophelia just said?” Fitz was smiling at her, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why that way. “She said ‘before the sun rises.’ That’s in,” he glanced at the clock over the stove, “just over an hour. That’s more than enough time t’ get over there and stop them. And I think I have just the thing.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” The certainty in his tone made Jemma feel more settled than she had in the past twenty minutes. “But we need t’ go now if it’s goin’ t’ work.”

Instead of answering him, she nodded and allowed Fitz to lead her toward the door. She only stopped once and only long enough to grab the box of salt out of the cabinet before following him out to his Jeep. 

~*~

Jemma found herself holding her breath as they approached the cottage, headlights off to keep from tipping off the Sandersons. Somehow Fitz managed to navigate them through the woods in the dark she’d never know, but it left her heart pounding all the same. It felt like forever but eventually he brought them to a stop a few hundred yards from the cottage. They watched the smoke billowing from the chimney as the eastern horizon lightened and Jemma knew that she had to move quickly or risk losing her sister forever. 

“Y’ good with the plan?”

She turned her head to look at Fitz and gave him a tremulous smile. “As good as I can be,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’ll be right back. Keep it running.” With that, she opened the door as quietly as she could and slipped out of the Jeep, heading right for the Sandersons’ front door. 

Jemma kept low to the ground as she crept toward the door, moving slowly to make sure she didn’t accidentally make any loud sounds that would alert the witches. She pressed her ear against the rough wooden door but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said behind it. All she could hear was the rhythmic chanting of the sisters, their muffled words sending a chill down her spine as she tried to judge what was the best moment. Realizing she’d have to move sooner rather than later, Jemma stood, made eye contact with Fitz through the Jeep’s windshield, then forced the door open. 

She stumbled slightly as she came into the room but quickly got her feet under her. Thankfully, the door bursting open was enough to distract the witches and Jemma was able to put on a more confident look despite seeing Daisy struggle with Ophelia and Lorelei holding her down as Raina attempted 

“Prepare to die!” she shouted. “Again, that is!”

Raina sneered at her, her lip curling unattractively above her unnaturally white teeth. “I think not, girl. You have no power here!”

Jemma saw her pull her arm back, doubtlessly ready to cast a spell, and shouted to get her to stop. 

“Maybe not power, but knowledge!”

“Knowledge?” Raina straightened and gave her a look that clearly said she suspected she was up to something. “What knowledge?”

“Daylight Savings Time!”

There was the space of a heartbeat where Jemma feared their plan wouldn’t work. That the open mobile line in her pocket would be too muffled for Fitz to hear her say their agreed to phrase, but the room flooded with pink light right on cue. The Sanderson Sisters all gasped and started shrieking, clearly intent on out doing each other for most dramatic death. 

“Oh, Raina,” Ophelia moaned, “I can feel my skin burning!”

“I’m melting! Oh sisters, I’m melting!”

“This is it!” Raina shouted above them all. “This is how we die, Sisters! I have failed you, and for that I am so, so sorry-”

Realizing that their ruse wouldn’t last, not even with foes as dim-witted as the Sandersons, Jemma sprang into action. She immediately went to Daisy and started working on the ropes they’d used to tie her to the chair. Thankfully the knots weren’t particularly tight, and Jemma didn’t have much difficulty in getting them undone. 

“Ugh, finally,” Daisy grumbled as the ropes went slack around her body. “Took you long enough.”

“It was twenty- You know what, never mind.” Jemma knew better than to start arguing with her sister. They’d go until the actual sunrise given half a chance. “Get Trip,” she said with a nod toward the burlap sack struggling on a hook above the fire, “while I deal with the potion.”

Using piece of firewood, Jemma got the cauldron to start rocking, the contents sloshing over the sides and making the fire hiss ominously as it went more and more off kilter. Just as she was starting to panic that they were out of time, it came off the hook and crashed to the floor, sending the wicked looking potion spilling everywhere. 

“Oooh, I ought to-”

“Daisy, let’s go.” She caught her sister’s arm just as she went to kick at Ophelia who was lying nearest to her. “We need to go!”

“Why? It’s sunrise, they’re-”

“Now.”

Jemma’s tone brokered no room for argument as she pulled her sister out of the room and through the door.

“Jemma, what the hell? They were- Oh.” 

She knew the exact moment that Daisy caught sight of Fitz and his tinted headlights, felt her sister pick up her pace even as she struggled to let Trip out of the sack. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe that worked!” Fitz hissed as he ripped the tints off his headlights, leaving the cottage bathed in bright white light. He threw himself into the driver’s seat as they all climbed in and had the Jeep in reverse before they were even buckled in.

“Let me get this straight,” Daisy said, leaning forward between the seats, “you came to get us, and your only plan was to throw on some lights?”

“Yeah, well.” Jemma fixed her eyes on the road ahead, her heart racing. How long until the witches realized that they weren’t dying? How quickly would they be coming after them? “We did what we could, all things considered.” 

She reached into the footwell and rooted around for the box of salt. Just in case. 

“Where t’?” Fitz asked. “We still have a half hour until sunrise. We can’t go back t’ your house, they know where that is.”

“The cemetery,” Trip answered smoothly. “It’s hallowed ground. They can’t follow us there.”

“Good thing, because here they come!”

Jemma twisted to look over that shoulder to see Ophelia straddling a broom and bearing down on them on the passenger side of the car. A quick glance in the other direction showed Raina coming up on Fitz’ side; she could only assume that Lorelei was riding above them. She shut her eyes and tried to will the pounding of her heart, doing everything she could to focus on her breathing and not the witches zooming alongside the car on their broomsticks. It was easier said than done when she could hear them shouting at them and banging on the windows every so often. 

“Fitz, not to pressure you or anything, but do you know how to shake a tail?” Jemma could hear Daisy’s own nerves thinly disguised behind her quip. “Because now would be the time.”

“Workin’ on it!” he shouted back. Jemma opened her eyes to steal a peek at him, her breath catching when she saw how tight his grip was on the wheel. “I just need- There!” 

Fitz jerked the wheel to the left, leaving Jemma to hold tight to the handle above her door and pray he wasn’t about to roll the car. There was a disconcerting thump against the roof and for a dark moment, Jemma hoped it was Ophelia they’d managed to clip, before she returned her focus to the road in front of her. It was a tiny wooded path that only a local could have known and not for the first time she found herself incredibly grateful to have Fitz with them. She and Daisy would have had to simply outrun them if they’d been alone. 

“Fitz, you’re a genius!” Daisy clapped him on the shoulder from the backseat while he smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “How did you know about this?”

“My mum likes takin’ back roads sometimes. This one is one o’ her favorites.” He let out a sigh and laughed, clearly trying to relieve his own anxiety over everything that was happening. “It’ll spit us out near the center o’ town, and hopefully the tree cover will be enough t’ hide us from the Sanderson Sisters. If we can get t’ the cemetery first, we can at least outwait them until the sun rises.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, each of them listening for any sign of the witches’ return. Instead of relaxing the longer they went without hearing from them, Jemma only found herself becoming more and more tightly wound. The only relief was seeing how gray the horizon had become when they finally emerged from the forest. At least if dawn was near she knew this hell would soon be over. 

Fitz parked right at the gates and they all rushed out, eagerly following Trip to the oldest part of the cemetery. They passed the open grave of Michael Peterson and Jemma felt a chill run down her spine. 

“Guys, wait. What about-”

A crashing to her right forced her to cut off what she was about to say in favor of a scream. There was the zombie they’d all forgotten, crashing through the underbrush at them with what looked like murder in his eyes. 

“Yes, Mike, get them! Bring me the youngest!” Jemma glanced up to see the sisters hovering above them, Raina cheering on the zombie she’d created. “Repay your debt to me and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded handsomely.”

Jemma reached for her sister, ready to defend her, only to find Fitz standing in front of them holding a pocketknife. Mike looked between the blade of the knife and Fitz, seemingly uncertain as to what to do next. Even with his back to them, their friend seemed nervous, but his voice didn’t waiver as he spoke. 

“Daisy, Jemma, follow Trip and run. I’ll be right-”

“Fitz, you can’t-”

“Jemma, don’t argue! It’ll all be okay, I pro-”

Whatever he’d been about to say, they never heard it. He yelped in surprise when Mike snatched the knife from his hand and for one terrifying moment, Jemma was convinced that Fitz was going to catch the blade between his ribs. Instead, Mike brought it to his own mouth and began sawing at the twine that had been used to sew his mouth shut. She did her best not to wince when she saw maggots slip out from between his lips, instead focusing on getting Fitz to inch closer to them while Mike turned on Raina. 

“W-wench!” he shouted at her, his voice no more than a croak thanks to centuries of disuse. “Trollop! Miserable old hag!” He grinned at her in triumph, his chest puffed up in pride. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for centuries. Go to hell, you miserable waste of a woman!”

Raina drew herself up to her full height as best she could on her broom and looked at her sisters. 

“We’ve already been, thanks. It was _lovely_.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned over the handle of her broom. “Sisters, good help is so hard to find. If Mike won’t bring her to us,” a small vial of bright green potion appeared in her hand, “we’ll just have to force this down her throat ourselves.” Her gaze shifted to Daisy and Jemma felt her gut go tight with nerves. “Get her!”

The three of them went into a simultaneous dive, all aimed for Daisy. Jemma acted without thinking, knocking her sister to the dirt while Fitz and Mike grabbed at Ophelia and Lorelei, doing their best to wrestle them off their brooms. Trip leapt at Raina at just the right time to land on her arm and Jemma heard his muffled yowls as she sank his teeth and claws into her, making her drop the vial. It rolled to a stop near Jemma’s feet and before she could think twice about it, she grabbed it and scrambled to her feet just in time to watch Raina throw Trip into a tree. His tiny body crumpled at the foot of it, but there was no time to go to him.

“You can’t have her!” she shouted up at Raina, Ophelia, and Lorelei as she held it above her head. “If you go near my sister, I’ll smash it!”

“If you drop that vial, girl, we’ll kill you all. Starting with your sister and ending with you.”

Jemma’s jaw clenched as she stared defiantly up at the Sanderson Sisters, and knew what she needed to do. It was incredibly foolish, but there was no other option. She had to save Daisy, no matter the cost. Eyes locked on Raina’s, Jemma uncapped the vial and brought it to her lips before throwing her head back and downing it all in one gulp. 

“Jemma, no!” 

She was dimly aware of Fitz shouting at her but the writhing pain in her gut didn’t allow her to do much more than groan. A strange tingling sensation spread over her arms and down her body and she watched as a white mist formed and hovered just above her skin. She met Fitz’ gaze and felt a twisting in her gut that had nothing to do with the potion she’d drank. So much for more chances to snog him senseless. One last glance would have to do instead. 

“Brat! You haven’t stopped anything. You’ll do just fine!” Raina snarled as she circled around and came back for Jemma. She held her ground, refusing to look like a coward even in her final moments. 

Raina hit her with enough force to knock the wind out of her, her fingers curling into the fabric of Jemma’s jumper as she lifted her off the ground. Jemma kicked futilely as she tried to get loose, but it was no use. Raina held on and leaned in as she started to take deep breaths. To Jemma’s horror she watched as the white mist that covered her leaving, flowing into Raina’s body. She kicked harder and reached for the witch, trying to get Raina to release her grip, but found her movements growing sluggish. 

Below her, she could hear shouting, although whether for her or the fight between her friends and the other Sanderson Sisters she couldn’t be sure. All her energy was focused on surviving.

“Let me go!” She gritted out, giving Raina a shake. The broom wobbled, but Raina’s grip never loosened. 

“Never,” the other woman growled, “you’re _mine _and you’re dead. Say goodbye, girl!”

A chill went through Jemma and she started kicking harder, clawing at Raina and sending the broom dipping wildly as she tried to knock the broom off kilter. She could feel herself weakening, her body being pushed beyond its breaking point when she heard a shout from below. 

“Now! Let go now!”

There was a whooshing sound and a burst of pain over her spine as something collided into Jemma and Raina, the force of the impact sending them both tumbling to the ground. The force of them crashing into the turf left her feeling as though her entire body was on fire, her lungs spasming as they tried to fill with oxygen. Raina apparently recovered more quickly, since she was looming large in Jemma’s vision and yanking her off the ground high enough so that the white toe caps of her Chucks just barely brushed the dewy grass. 

“You’re too late,” Raina cackled. “The potion has taken effect, you’re mi-”

The witch’s eyes went wide, and Jemma looked down in time to watch as she turned to stone. Trips words rushed back to her. Hallowed ground. Raina’s feet were planted on the turf and she was quickly turning to stone. There was one satisfying moment where Jemma could see the fear in the other woman’s eyes before her entire body calcified. Wrenching herself free of the stone fingers with the sound of ripping cotton, she found herself falling once more, although this time her landing was much easier. 

“Jemma! Jemma, are y’ okay?”

Fitz was first to her side, eyes wide with fear as he looked her over. Jemma had the feeling he wanted to give her a closer once over but was stopped thanks to her sister’s presence. Instead he unzipped his hoodie and quickly stripped it off, wrapping it around her shoulders to give her a little more coverage. She smiled at him only to find herself wincing and ducking against him as three explosions went off in quick succession. 

“What. The. Actual. Fuck!”

Jemma looked up to see the sun peeking over the horizon. A smoldering patch of blackened grass was all that was left of Raina Sanderson. With Fitz’ help she got to her feet and went over to inspect it. 

“What happened?”

“Sunrise,” Fitz answered simply. “The book was clear. They had until sunrise t’ claim a soul and return t’ life. They failed. We did it.”

The three teens smiled at each other, a thin vein of excitement beginning to work through them. 

“We did it?” Daisy murmured. “Like, we really- wait. Where’s Trip?”

Daisy took off toward where Trip had fallen leaving Jemma and Fitz to trail behind. Jemma felt her stomach sink, knowing that if the witches were truly gone, that likely meant Trip would be, too. She screwed her eyes shut and hoped against hope that the worst hadn’t happened. 

She only opened them again when she felt Fitz nudge her with his elbow and gasped. Instead of a black cat lying on the ground, there was a young man, no older than Jemma, dressed in sturdy 17th century plain spun breeches and a tunic. He seemed to be just as amazed as they were, his hands patting his chest and legs as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and when he turned to look at him, he gave them one of the brightest smiles Jemma had ever seen. 

“Trip?” Daisy whispered, her disbelief clear. “Is that you?”

“In the flesh,” he answered as he climbed to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first and Jemma couldn’t help but notice how quickly Daisy jumped in to help him find his balance. “I have no earthly idea why I’m like this again, but-” His brown eyes went wide as he looked at something over their shoulders, his expression plainly shocked. “_Rosie_?”

They turned to see the ghostly image of a little girl dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown and cap, her black curls tumbling wildly out of its confines. She was smiling at Trip and took a tentative step forward. 

“Granny sent me to tell you,” she began, “that we are well. Together and happy. She says you’re to make the most of this, or she’ll hear why.” Her grin went a little mischievous. “I wouldn’t upset her if I were you.”

Trips eyes were glassy in the early morning light but none of the tears had fallen. He offered the girl - who was clearly his sister - a tremulous smile and nodded. 

“Tell her I will. I know better than to go against her wishes.” He took a deep breath and added, “Give her my love. I’ll see you all soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope.”

With a little wave and a kind smile, she disappeared, leaving them all standing in the middle of the cemetery, exhausted but pleased. None of them spoke for a long moment, simply letting everything that had happened that evening sink in. As it was, Jemma wasn’t certain it all hadn’t been a fever dream, but the feeling of Fitz’ arm around her shoulders anchored her to reality. As did his next statement. 

“Would now be an entirely inappropriate time for us t’ get breakfast? I’m thinkin’ pancakes.”

They burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all, the relief of surviving the night making them giddy 

“No, I think pancakes sound wonderful,” Jemma said as Fitz steered her back toward the Jeep. “Although we might want to get Trip a change of clothes first. He’ll definitely stand out in that.”

“He’d stand out in anything,” Daisy offered, getting an eye roll from her sister, “but I suppose you’re right. I think Dad has some extra sweats he could borrow for now.”

“Excellent. Although, how will you explain to him where they’ve gone?”

“And what are y’ plannin’ on doin’ with him when all is said and done? It’s not like he can go back t’ huntin’ mice and sleepin’ in the cemetery.”

Daisy looked up at the cat-turned-teenaged-boy and grinned. 

“I was going to convince Mom and Dad that we should keep him when he was still a cat. I don’t see why that should change. After all, Dad’s always had a soft spot for strays.”

Jemma snorted at that and shook her head. Her father wanting to take care of stray animals was one thing, but a stray human… As long as they could convince their mother, they’d be all right. How they’d do that she couldn’t say, but that wasn’t her most pressing concern at the moment. For now, all she wanted was a stack of fresh pancakes, her bed, and perhaps a few of Fitz’ kisses that she found so addicting. Everything else could be sorted later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! I meant for it to be done before Halloween... Then before Thanksgiving. Then Christmas. I'll settle for actually completing it before the end of the decade. Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
